


Faces in the Dark

by orphan_account



Category: Produce 101 (TV), X1 (Korea Band)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Noir, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Bad Jokes, Crimes & Criminals, Drinking, Found Family, Gen, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, No Major Character Death, OT3, Organized Crime, Polyamory, References to Drugs, Revenge, Will add more tags as the story grows, YOU get a sword and YOU get a sword, for the adults only, mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 02:23:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20716520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After a sudden attack wipes out his entire crime faction, Seungyoun is going to need some help if he wants to get revenge on the vampires behind it. He seeks out an old friend for help who never wanted him to live a life of crime, and together they enlist the help of nine others to save their city from ruin.(There is no 18+ content ft. the maknae line. They just get to swear and fight as much as they want).





	Faces in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by those amazing black and blue stage outfits. I’m not even sorry. 
> 
> Thanks for joining me on my next big project! I hope you enjoy it!

Seungyoun lay on broken concrete, discarded like human waste behind an old abandoned warehouse that then held stacks of bodies unluckier than he was. He was alive — at least he was mostly sure of that.

He was covered in sticky warm blood, but he wasn’t sure how much of it belonged to him. His whole body radiated with a sharp throbbing pain that mixed with the cold endless splatter of rain that poured down onto him. If he didn’t move, he would drown, but as he lay bleeding, cut open and left to die, he wondered if that wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

He started with his own toes, confident if he could command his feet to walk, he could make himself stand. A too heavy boot wiggled weakly, but at least he still had his legs. 

Next were his hands. He balled them into fists, clenching his teeth as the broken skin stretched back on his busted knuckles. So his arms still worked like they were supposed to. This was a good sign.

A factor he hadn’t accounted for until the rain began to ease up was the amount of blood that ran off of him onto the cracks… the amount of blood that still clung to him and what still bled from his wounds… the amount of blood in the warehouse that spilled out into the streets. Blood.

It is everywhere, and from what he could tell, he was the only one left still breathing, and that meant that if he didn’t force himself up  _ fast _ , it wouldn’t matter how much it rained. He wouldn’t last long enough to drown.

In a city trapped permanently between dusk and dawn, only an idiot would hang around outdoors with so much as a paper cut. That was just the way things were. If you didn’t go where you weren’t supposed to, and you didn’t piss anyone off, you got to live. But Seungyoun was exactly where he wasn’t supposed to be in the worst condition he could have possibly been there in, and his problem was that he had pissed off  _ everybody.  _

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He was sure that there were a few local shop owners who didn’t mind him, but he didn’t think any of them would show up any time soon to drag his body out from the pile so he was going to have to do it himself.

He forced himself to roll over despite the sharp pains in his ribs that made it impossible to breathe. So he had a few broken ribs. So what? That wasn’t so bad. He groaned as he pushed himself up. Okay, maybe it was that bad.

He got up to his knees and held himself up as dirty water covered his hands and the rain beat down on his back. He looked up and saw a cloaked man standing under a light. The man lit a cigarette and tipped his hat before leaving him there alone. 

Seungyoun spat on the ground and wiped the blood, dirt, and sweat from his mouth, cursing whoever it was that could stand by and watch from the shadows like a coward while everyone had been slaughtered inside like cattle. With his final ounce of resolve, he pushed himself to his feet. He stumbled forward, too weak from the blood loss and the fighting, but he could manage it. But first he had to find him.

Wooseok had been inside, and if he had been smart, he would have played dead the moment things got bad. Seungyoun had to go back for him. He was still in there, he knew it. Wooseok was alright. He was alive. All he had to do was go find him and tell him that the coast was clear, and then they could finally get off that fucking island once and for all. 

He reentered the warehouse, stepping over the bodies of his fallen brothers on the ground. It was dark, but Wooseok was small. He was so tiny, he would have been impossible to miss among the others. 

“Wooseok?” he said quietly with not enough strength in him to shout. “Wooseok, where are you?”

It was silent except for the rain pouring down on the metal roof. He just had to be louder. Wooseok just couldn’t hear him.

“Wooseok,” he strained against his broken ribs. “We gotta go!”

No one moved. A terrible thought clung to the back of his mind that he pushed back as he began to flip over the bodies one by one searching for the one face who would surely smile back up at him once he realized he was safe. 

But they had all been ravaged beyond recognition, some of them torn to shreds. It didn’t make sense. He was sure he had fought humans. No human could have done this. They had been gutted by talons with gouged eyes and torn necks that could have only meant one thing — vampires. 

But there was no way a vampire would have left him to die. Something about the attack felt entirely organized like a regular gang scuffle gone wrong, but it was chaotic and disorderly. It was efficient, but sloppy. But he was losing time, and once he found Wooseok, they could come up with all the theories they wanted to.

“Wooseok,” he called out again with no reply. Once he got to the end, he looked back, and every body had been turned upwards without a sign of Wooseok. He was gone.

Before he had the chance to cry or panic, the sound of rain stopped, and he had to go. Wooseok probably escaped before he was able to stand. He was clever like that. He was fine.

Or he was dead. 

He swallowed the thought and hobbled out before any hungry vampires wandered in and found him like a big, injured, snack bar.

They had taken his weapons — whoever they were. That’s what made it feel like a turf war, because it was common to strip your opponents of their swords and knives as a show of defeat. It was the first time anyone had ever taken his, and the absence at his side was heavier than the drag his wounded leg gave him. He wouldn’t lose a second time.

But first he had to leave. He couldn’t go home because he didn’t know where that was anymore. For all he knew it had been burned to the ground anyway. He didn’t have any family besides the ones he had to step over to get back outside, and any friends he had left were suspicious until proven otherwise. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the time to prove otherwise.

So he did the one thing he could, and that was to start walking as far away from the carnage as possible. The further he was away from the blood, the safer he was, but gods did it stink. The metallic rot clung to him, and it permeated the air. They would come in swarms, and he had nothing to fight them off with. 

That gave him the idea to cling to the back alleys away from the street where most of the smell would spread. If he kept to the walls and kept his head down, he was less likely to be spotted by anyone unseemly anyway.

It didn’t matter where he was going anymore because anywhere was better than there. He couldn’t stay in a hotel without any money so that was out. He could check himself into a hospital and hide there, but something told him it would be best to lay low for a couple of days.

So he walked.

And he walked. 

And he walked.

He found a few coins on the ground, and it was enough to get him on the bus so he could rest for a bit. The seats were green and sticky, but it was nice to sit. The other passengers eyed him, some in disgust and some out of fear. No familiar faces though so that was good. He didn’t have the strength or the means to fight anyone else that night.

He kept his eyes faced out the window with his hood pulled over his head.  _ Yes, I’m bleeding. Yes, I’m dangerous. Are you sure you want to stare at me right now when I’m being so polite and courteous?  _

Not to be sour, but it was really getting on his nerves.

“What are you looking at,” he said gruffly to a little girl who was watching him. “It’s not nice to stare at strangers.”

“Are you hurt, Mr.?” she asked. She was holding a worn bear, and her guardian was too busy on their phone to notice she was talking to a stranger. 

He smiled weakly. “I just fell off my bike and scraped my knee.”

She seemed satisfied with the answer, but not satisfied enough to leave him alone. It was fine, though. He was in too much pain to talk, but the other passengers lost interest once they saw that he wasn’t going to hijack the bus.

“I’ve never rode a bike before,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to ride a bike.”

“You should tell your mommy to get you one,” he said.

“My mommy died,” she said. She looked up at the woman who was supposed to be watching her. “This is Mrs. Kim. She’s taking me to meet my new family.”

“I hope your new family buys you a bike,” he said.

“Me too!”

Seungyoun stayed on the bus until it reached a new neighborhood he was familiar with. It was mostly a marketplace with a few homes scattered through. It was condensed and swollen and the perfect place for a person to hide. 

He hobbled off, more aware of his broken ribs than ever, and he cursed himself for resting too long to make himself more sore than he had to be. A few market goers and stand workers eyed him, but these people were smart enough to keep their heads down. The wrong look to the wrong person could cost someone their whole night in busted produce or worse. He wasn’t sure if he was that wrong person, but he wasn’t in the mood to be watched either way.

Once he made it closer to the center where the meat market was, he veered off to the back alleys where there would be less people to notice him. The neighborhood was too familiar and left a dull ache in his chest, and he knew where his legs were taking him.

  
  


Seungwoo poured something dark, stale, and powdered into the bottom of a small chipped mug and covered it with hot water. Clumps of what was supposed to be instant coffee floated around suspiciously at the top. He poked at them with his finger, sucking his teeth as the water burned his fingertips, too lazy to get a spoon. It probably would have tasted better if he stirred it, but he wasn’t trying to make more work for himself than he had to. A single dirty spoon would only lead to a dirty bowl or a dirty plate, and then the whole day — or night — would be ruined.

It was night, he was pretty sure. His clock was broken, but he was sure it was night by the sounds of the vendors outside. It was busier at night when everyone was off from work, and that was basically all he needed to tell time. 

It was a normal evening. He brushed his teeth. He put on something that looked clean, and settled onto his bed that doubled as a sofa if anyone asked. His space was small, but it was all he needed, so he was happy with it. Plus, he could stand in one spot and reach almost everything he needed in the whole apartment which was a win for him.

But something felt off. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. It must have been the coffee making him paranoid. He took another sip.  _ Yep, it’s just the coffee. _

Not long after he finally relaxed, there was a knock at the door. There was never a knock at the door. 

He set his mug down and tiptoed carefully across the room. He pressed his ears to the door and listened. There weren’t any voices.

“Seungwoo,” a weak voice called out. The owner sounded tired and desperate, and they knew his name, but he wouldn’t open his door just for anyone. The outsider knocked again, startling him. “It’s me.”

He stood up straight and inhaled deeply.  _ It can’t be _ . 

“Seungwoo, please,” he pleaded, and Seungwoo’s heart dropped. He opened the door to a rain soaked boy covered in blood and bruises. No, not a boy. Not anymore. The face who stared back at him, was not a face he recognized anymore. He wasn’t the kid he grew up with, or his best friend anymore. He was someone else entirely.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” he said, his own voice heavy, bringing up a well of emotions he wasn’t ready to face yet.

“I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” Seungyoun said. His lip quivered like he could cry, but this person was too hardened to cry. People like him didn’t cry or feel anything.

He propped himself up against the door frame, and clutched his ribs. Seungwoo almost felt sorry for him, but then he noticed all the blood.

“You’re bleeding,” he said, his eyes wide. Seungyoun had left a trail right up to his doorstep.

“I would have stopped it if I could have,” he let out a weak breath and winced. “Are you going to let me in or should I keep walking.”

Seungwoo swallowed and looked behind Seungyoun, cautious. There wasn’t a single bone in his body that wanted to let him in, but one of them wasn’t trained to be heartless and it sure wasn’t him. “Did anyone follow you?”

“If they did, they could have taken me out hours ago,” he said, gesturing down to his wounded body.

Seungwoo got a better look at him. “How the hell did you make it this far like this?”

“My unending resolve,” he smiled, and Seungwoo saw a flash of his old friend that was good enough for him to step aside. Although, he did not invite him in.

“Still killing vampires, I see,” Seungyoun stepped in. “Or do old habits die hard?”

“A little bit of both,” he admitted. “I’d offer you a seat, but I don’t want you to get blood all over my bed.”

“Got it,” he mumbled, limping in.

“You can clean yourself up, can’t you?”

“Yep.”

Seungyoun shuffled off to the bathroom to wash the blood off of himself. Seungwoo found some clothes for him to change into once he was washed, but that was just to keep his apartment clean. It wasn’t because he cared. He hated messes.

Moments later he heard an agonizing groan, and was overcome by curiosity. 

“Are you okay in there,” he asked through the door which was more like a glorified curtain.

“I’m fine,” Seungyoun said through gritted teeth.

“Do you need help?”

Seungyoun paused. “No.”

“Are you wearing pants?”

“Yeah, why–,” he started, but Seungwoo opened the door, too curious to stand outside and wait to find out. “Hey!”

Seungwoo gasped. His clothes on the floor were covered in so much blood, and it seemed that most of it had come from him. There were gashes all over his body that looked like someone had taken a can opener to his torso, and his ribs were already turning black and blue. “What happened to you?!”

“I got hit by a small sedan,” he said, cleaning a gash with peroxide and wincing in pain. “Don’t worry, I made sure to put a good dent in their fender before they drove off.”

“Shut up,” Seungwoo said. “Put your hands up.”

“Am I under arrest?”

He refused to give him the satisfaction of his terrible, ill–timed humor being acknowledged. “Wait here.”

He left to get a bottle of liquor — something awful and putrid that could double as a drain cleaner. He handed the bottle to Seungyoun who held the contents under the light with a disgusted expression.

“What, were you out of paint thinner?” 

“You’ll sleep so well you forgot a little old lady beat you to death with her cane,” he said.

“I said it was a sedan.”

“Of course you did,” he said, getting out the first aid kit that was especially stocked for incidents such as this. “Now drink up because this is going to take me forever if you scream the whole time.”

“tHiS iS gOiNg To TaKe Me FoReVeR iF yOu ScReAm ThE wHoLe TiMe,” Seungyoun repeated in a mocking tone before taking a swing from the bottle and hacking and coughing the moment it hit the back of his throat. “ACK! This is horrible! What is this?!”

“Lizard juice,” Seungwoo said. “Now hold still.”

“Lizard  _ what?” _

Seungwoo finished cleaning the first gash and closed it up, opting to not continue the conversation and waste any time while the wounds were still fresh. He was pissed off that he had to take care of him, but what else was new? Seungyoun had shaky hands and a low pain tolerance, and Seungwoo always had to clean up his messes when they were kids. How was grown thug Seungyoun any different?  _ Big stupid man child can’t take care of himself _ .

At least an hour passed before he finished, and Seungyoun had reluctantly drank a few more shots of the liquor and was having a hard time focusing. 

“Thank you,” he said, pulling his shirt over himself and the bandages. 

“You’re welcome,” Seungwoo said. “Go lie down, you’ll pass out soon.”

Seungyoun sat on the bed in a daze, and Seungwoo brought him some water. Like this he looked more like his old friend, but he knew he wasn’t in there anymore. 

He dragged a chair over and sat in front of him. His coffee was cold, but it wasn’t like it was good when it was hot either. He looked him up and down and frowned. “You look like shit.”

“I feel like shit.”

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“Does it matter?”

“Maybe.”

“I was  _ working _ and a bunch of guys ambushed us,” he said, his voice distant like he was recalling a bad dream. “Like hundreds of them, and they killed everyone.”

“But not you,” Seungwoo pointed out.

“But not me,” he repeated, bitter and weary. “They left me to die, though. They should have just finished the job.”

“You chose this life,” Seungwoo said, not feeling sorry for him at all. “I tried to stop you, but this is what you signed up for. 

“I did not sign up for  _ that,”  _ Seungyoun snapped, a flash of anger appearing on his face that Seungwoo had never seen before. Maybe he was being too harsh on him. “ _ We do not slaughter.” _

His voice was cold and strained. Seungwoo looked at him with a puzzled expression. “What do you mean?”

“I mean we don’t rip a whole  _ family  _ to shreds,” he said. “You fight a couple small rival gangs, and you redraw your lines, but you don’t do  _ that.  _ What they did wasn’t human.”

“Vampires?”

Seungyoun looked down and nodded. 

“Well, that’s who you decided to work for,” Seungwoo said. “That’s what they do.”

“I don’t work for them, I work with them, but I don’t expect you to understand that,” he said. “Do you think we’d last a day if it was humans versus vampires? It’s a mutually beneficial relationship.”

Seungwoo couldn’t believe the bullshit he was hearing from Seungyoun of all people. They had trained together for one thing, and that was to kill those creatures. Now he was spouting off pro-vampire propaganda in Seungwoo’s own living room.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Seungyoun said.

“When did you switch sides?”

“Because picking ours paid so well, didn’t it,” Seungyoun gestured to Seungwoo’s tiny home that was barely a hole in a wall.

“And where did all of that money get you? What did it leave you with?”

“Nothing,” Seungyoun said, and that was Seungwoo’s cue to drop it. He didn’t approve of his lifestyle, but he knew better than to kick him when he was down. 

Seungyoun eventually let himself rest and close his eyes, and the liquor dragged him down to a deep dreamless sleep that would at least get him to the next day, and then they could figure out what he was supposed to do. 

If there was one thing Seungwoo was sure of, he wasn’t about to stay with him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for taking the time to read this! 
> 
> Please let me know what you think!
> 
> Twitter is @seungteefs


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